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The night sky was clear. That was the first thing Levi noticed as he took a sip of his tea, grimacing at the bland taste because, apparently, even the Commander himself didn’t know how to prepare it decently. The office was quiet, too, occasionally interrupted by shuffling of the papers on the other side of the clustered desk. The lamps burnt low, sending warm glow all over the space, although neither he, nor Erwin seemed to pay attention to it. The moonlight peeked through the window, cutting through the middle of the room, stopping right at Levi’s bandaged foot.
He looked away from it and focused on the man opposite him. There was always something in Erwin after an expedition that Levi could not fully name. The quiet always felt heavy and ignoring it proved to be pointless – it pressed against you from every direction until you’ve had enough. Erwin’s hand moved slowly, halting occasionally as he wrote more names, more losses, more victims of the dream he was chasing. His shoulders seemed stiff, and the tea sat untouched near his fingers, cooling. The flames from candles flew over his sharp face features, smoothing his expression into something serene, though Levi was not foolish enough to believe what he saw.
In the back of his head, there were voices of other soldiers after the gates closed and everyone went their own ways – some towards the infirmary, some to reconcile with family members that lost those they loved. Some to just wash the blood off their skin, scrubbing at it until it was raw and red. Levi never paid much attention to the hushed conversations around him because he learnt long ago that words hurt less when one pretended not to care about them. At least this time, nobody talked about him.
‘Have you seen the Commander?’ one of the soldiers from the western flank that had lost people asked his comrades as they passed by the corner. ‘He didn’t seem moved by the fact we’d just lost a friend.’
‘We’ve lost so many people by now that it’s probably routine to him.’
Levi had stood leaning against the wall unnoticed because he knew how to hide from eyes that always searched. His fist had clenched and he hadn’t even realised when. He had stayed hidden, though, because he’d seen good men torn apart by Titans, and the blood had still felt fresh on his skin despite having been washed away.
Now as Levi sat in the chair that he had claimed as his sometime between one visit and another, he couldn’t stop hearing the voices. The words. He tried to distract himself with reading the book Erwin had once given him for practice, but sentences blurred and made less and less sense the longer he stared at them.
Erwin had not spoken yet. He only made tea and returned to work when Levi came. He didn’t even know why he was here in the first place. Perhaps being alone after seeing horrors the world beyond the Walls offered was worse than drowning together in silence that still spoke more than most words Levi could use.
The candlelight flickered once before it settled again, reaching Erwin’s hair. It was dishevelled now and he didn’t think the other man had noticed. He was too absorbed in his work, or whatever thought had trapped him and made his face look like that.
“There was no way to avoid losing Volz and Bauer,” Levi said at last, shattering the silence. His own voice surprised him – it was quiet but hoarse, and he didn’t even know why he spoke in the first place. But Erwin lifted his head slightly and put the pen down for a moment. “We would’ve saved them if it’d been possible.”
Erwin did not look at him, but he was listening. Levi knew it by the way his shoulders set and fingers fiddled with the edge of the document he had been writing.
“I don’t think their families would find it very reassuring,” he spoke finally. His voice was as quiet, burdened with emotions Levi was afraid to touch. “They don’t even have the bodies to bury.”
Levi had no answer to that. Erwin’s gaze stayed on the desk, and his lips pressed tightly together. After a moment, he resumed his work. Levi watched him fill out another form. He remembered, briefly, some people whispering about Erwin Smith as if he was the Devil himself, sending people to die for the goal that might or might not benefit humanity. Levi himself didn’t yet fully understand the scale of it, but he knew for sure that whatever decisions command made, they were made with care. He trusted it. He trusted Erwin.
The face of the Devil, after all, shouldn’t look like someone dragged through dirt and mud and puddles of blood left outside the Walls. Levi couldn’t imagine the Devil caring about the fallen as much to memorise their names and carry them like another pile of bodies. He didn’t think the Devil refused to eat, drink, or leave the office because the guilt weighed too much.
No, in this office, in this moment, Levi didn’t see the Devil. He didn’t see the cold face of the Commander that chose to sacrifice others for whatever hell he was chasing. He saw someone exhausted, burdened with the weight of command and what came with every expedition. With losing people and having no bodies to bury, no condolences strong enough to soothe the grieving.
He watched Erwin Smith struggling to remain the Commander everyone saw. Somehow, he hated it. He hated the soldiers who doubted, hated the filthy, mindless bastards outside the Walls, hated the way people were so quick to judge the surface without caring about what was beneath it. More than that, however, he hated himself for spotting it and finding it annoying enough to occupy his mind.
Finally, Erwin put the pen down and sighed, eyes tired and dull, shoulders still too stiff. Levi glanced at him for a moment before looking away and focusing on the wall with an old stain he once complained about.
“I think that’s all for tonight,” Erwin began, grabbing the papers and forming a neat pile Levi would normally appreciate. “We should get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Levi huffed before he could stop himself, the fingers tightening around the cup of tea.
“No shit.” He shook his head. His focus went back to Erwin fast, though. He sat slumped in the chair now, and something in Levi wanted to shake him out of it. Instead, he let out a soft breath and whispered, “You’ve made the best choices you could.”
Erwin nearly laughed, though the sound was not joyful. It was bitter, tired.
“And somehow, we still lost two good men and ended up with many more injured.”
Levi clenched his jaw. Volz’s and Bauer’s screams still rang in his ears, and he wished they would leave his head, at least for one night. At least for this moment. He didn’t need to remember the blood and the fear in their eyes. He didn’t need to recall how helpless he felt because he couldn’t launch to save them. He had been too far, too busy with saving a young cadet that froze after her friend had got hurt.
“Of course, one can always argue it was necessary,” Erwin added once Levi stayed quiet for too long. He stood up then, hands behind his back as he approached the window. The stars shone brightly in the sky. “Sacrifices always come with blood. We live in the world where death knocks on our doors daily.”
Levi swallowed, looked down at his knees, then at the bandaged ankle Erwin wrapped just a few hours ago. It was nothing compared to mangled bodies of the fallen, or the broken bones of the injured.
“Doesn’t make it right,” he muttered and only realised it after the fact. He tightened the grip on his cup before putting it down with a quiet clatter. Erwin did not move from the window, but he turned his head enough for Levi to see the moonlight across his face.
“You don’t think it’s good justification?”
“I think you want to believe it.”
This time, Erwin huffed, but there was something thoughtful in his eyes. Levi got used to him thinking ahead of everyone, moving his pawns across the chessboard, though he’d hate the comparison. Levi hated it, too, and the fact he even thought about it repulsed him.
“Perhaps you’re right. No justification is good enough when the result is so much death.”
Levi blinked, watching him from his chair. The dull ache of his ankle kept him focused on here and now, helping him forget about the bloodshed. Erwin didn’t move from the window. He stared out of it, eyes going past the paths and stars and soldiers walking around to keep their minds occupied.
Levi hated the sight. He hated himself for hating it, too. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to put a blade in this man. He would have wanted it and had no remorse. Now he sat in his office with no clear purpose and no words to say because all of them felt useless in the aftermath of something much bigger than both of them.
“You can’t chase whatever dream you have without death,” he spoke and nearly cursed himself because he shouldn’t even care. He didn’t understand why Erwin looking like this bothered him. He only knew the man by the window was not someone he wanted to kill anymore. “That’s part of it, as shitty as it is.”
“Do you not think it’s rather repulsive?” Erwin asked and the question took him aback. “Am I not selfish for disregarding human life like this?”
“Are you?”
Erwin shrugged, resting his hands on the windowsill. Moonlight enlightened it, too. His eyes watched it for a moment, and Levi couldn’t see his face anymore, but he was sure it still held that look he despised because it made him feel things he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“I’m many things, Levi. Perhaps selfish is one of them,” he let out a breath, and Levi pretended it didn’t sound like something inside him was breaking. “Perhaps I deserve the criticism. Perhaps I deserve the blame, too. The truth is, no matter who I tell myself I am, I’m still the one sending all of them to their graves. But the Commander’s existence is attached to death. There is no way around it. I may as well use it for the cause. Therefore, I believe you may classify it as selfishness.”
Levi stared at him for a few seconds, blinking, lips slightly parted. The world outside was silent for once, and he could almost forget the screams. He shifted, winced as his ankle sent a tiny pulse of pain through him, and ignored everything else. His arm rested over the back of the chair.
“That your Commander wisdom?”
Erwin clutched the windowsill until his knuckles turned white and loosened the grip only then. One of the candles on the desk was almost gone, the papers forgotten and the pen abandoned.
“That’s the way of things,” Erwin whispered, sounding way too calm but not enough to fool Levi. He had spent too much time here, to his own discomfort, to see it as something other than omission.
He rolled his eyes, stopping himself from scoffing. There was something serious in the way Erwin stood, something that Levi felt he had no access to. That stung somewhere deep inside him because this was the same man who showed him a new purpose after Furlan and Isabel died. The same man who spent his time teaching Levi long words until Levi could do it on his own.
It was also the same man who wore the title of the Commander like an armour that couldn’t be punctured. It was bullshit, of course. Levi had already learnt that there was more to him than just a face of the soldier who made decisions that killed hundreds, whether Erwin believed it or not.
“That’s a shitty excuse,” Levi let out at last, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes never left Erwin’s silhouette.
Erwin frowned, but his gaze still stayed on the window, on whatever he saw past the dirty glass. It reflected the side of his face, the distant look in his eyes, the tense jaw and the exhaustion that always came after meeting one Titan too many.
“An excuse for what?”
“For avoiding my question.”
This time, Erwin turned. His eyes found Levi’s. Neither spoke for a long moment.
“I did answer your question,” he explained, confused more than anything else. Levi rolled his eyes again, letting his arms drop onto his knees.
“The hell you did,” Levi huffed, annoyed now that he had to engage more than he had planned. He shouldn’t have started the conversation. He should have just kept his mouth shut and gone to sleep when Erwin suggested calling it a day. “I asked if you thought you’re selfish, not to give me your shitty Commander lecture in your shitty Commander voice. I didn’t ask as your subordinate so don’t answer as my superior.”
Erwin stared at him openly now. The silence grew heavy with something neither would name or even acknowledge, but Levi was willing to ignore it for the sake of it all. Erwin stood by the stupid window, looking at him like he’d lost his mind, and Levi despised it with his whole being. Yet, he found no strength to look away first. He kept his gaze on Erwin’s face, pale in the moonlight despite the tiny flicker of candlelight that sometimes crossed his cheeks.
The silence stretched. He started thinking that, maybe, he pushed too far, that maybe he crossed the invisible line Erwin had drawn and had not informed him about. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. His fingers gripped his knees until the nails bit into the skin through the trousers.
Then, Erwin’s lips twitched. It was a tiny and fast gesture – fast enough that Levi wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching so closely.
“But I am your superior, Levi. I’m quite literally your Commander.” The words were quiet but strained, although Erwin tried his best to sound amused. Levi saw through it immediately and was not sure whether he should do something about it.
He should have given up here. He should have nodded and accepted the hand that opened the door for him to retreat before he said something he’d regret later. But the screams in his head were loud, his skin hurt where he had rubbed too hard in the shower, and Erwin was looking at him with something tender and unguarded for once. A part of him wanted to run, but his feet stayed planted on the floor, and he couldn’t turn away.
He squeezed the arm of the chair so tightly it hurt and whispered, “You aren’t. Not right now.”
Something in Erwin’s eyes changed. He couldn’t define what it was, but it was there, and Levi turned his face away before it became a problem he didn’t know how to solve. His fingers only tightened around the chair, and he breathed in the air that felt too stale. His heart pounded for reasons that escaped him. Shit.
He didn’t manage to say anything more and truth be told, he wasn’t even sure what he could add that wouldn’t sound stupid.
Erwin let out a soft huff, turning away once more, though not towards the window this time. Just towards the wall, like it offered distance they, somehow, failed to maintain.
“You’re talkative tonight,” he simply answered, and that reply irritated Levi more than it was probably reasonable. The softness in Erwin’s voice didn’t help. Suddenly and very painfully, Levi wanted to see the face behind the uniform. Behind the rank and responsibilities and whatever torment trapped Erwin in his head.
“And you’re shit at changing the subject,” he said, though it wasn’t as sharp as he would have liked. He couldn’t see Erwin’s face, but there was a quiet, almost gentle huff coming from him. Levi didn’t mistake it for a laugh, although it was close to one.
“Is that so?”
Levi stood up before he could stop himself and remembered his ankle a second too late. He bit his tongue before any sound could get out and smoothed his face expression into something steady and composed, even if he was neither.
Erwin watched him approach in silence, clearly debating whether he should reach out or stay. Fortunately, he chose the latter. Levi moved slowly, steps careful and uneven. He halted right before his Commander who, for once, seemed to stop being just that.
“It is.” He nodded, looking up at the man in front of him. They were close now, too close for it to pass as casual or accidental. He lowered his voice further and wasted no time on choosing words. “I know who my Commander is. And I’m not asking him.”
Erwin’s lips parted and eyes widened. Levi could almost see the thoughts escaping him, refusing to form words into sentences that would make sense. His own heart skipped a beat, and he didn’t like it. He clenched his fists tightly. Erwin’s eyes changed further and face softened. He didn’t step aside, he just stayed there right in front of Levi, observing him cautiously, like he was measuring his next words.
“Levi…” His voice came out almost silent, and it shook with emotion neither chose to ponder on. “I’m not in a position to—”
“No, Erwin,” he interrupted, sounding sharper than he meant to, but he was tired of the tension that entered the silences whenever they were together. He was tired of pretending to see only the Commander in the man that he’d chosen to follow despite everything. “Don’t give me the damn superior speech. Not now. You keep doing that, you keep hiding behind excuses and titles and orders whenever things get too personal. I know what Commander Smith wants and thinks. The more distance you put between yourself and your shitty rank, the better you can pretend the guilt’s not eating you alive. People call you the Devil and think you’re cold, and you accept that because it gives you the reason to hate yourself more. You want to do that with them, fine. But don’t do that with me. You’re shit at it.”
Erwin blinked, and Levi realised he had stepped closer, his hand fisted in Erwin’s shirt. Once he realised, he let go, but the other man stayed where he was, staring at him with parted lips and eyes hiding too many feelings to name them all.
Levi stood there like an idiot, still breathing a bit too hard, still feeling the fabric of the shirt in his hand, and still being unable to look away. They stayed like that in the silence for a long moment until Levi fully realised what had happened and what he had said. Embarrassment quickly replaced the anger and frustration and, honestly, he didn’t even know who he had been furious with. He swallowed the lump in his throat, locked his eyes on Erwin’s for a second before everything else caught up entirely and he stepped back, ignoring the pain in the ankle.
“I should go,” he whispered, words leaving quicker than he could process them, and turned away on his heel. “You’d better rest, too. Wouldn’t want you drooling over the documents. Disgusting.”
Before Erwin could react, Levi moved. His thoughts were running wildly in his head, and heart was still beating faster than he found comforting. The sooner he left, the better. He wouldn’t sleep, not really, nobody ever slept after an expedition like that, and Levi wasn’t the best sleeper anyway. But at least there would be no Erwin looking at him like he stabbed him in the heart, like he exposed every single truth between them that had never wanted to come out before, like they were crossing into the territory neither knew too well.
He took a few steps, passed the desk, and looked at the door.
A hand closed around his wrist. The touch was unusually gentle, and perhaps it was why it stopped him in his tracks. His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened but no sound left. He turned slowly, refusing to look at the man who had grabbed him. His focus went to his shoes first, then to the wrist. The large, warm hand around it.
Levi glanced up. Intense blue eyes were staring back at him. He wanted to say something, but his voice failed him, and he watched as Erwin’s face changed once more. Levi had expected anger, maybe disappointment. Maybe a part of him hoped Erwin would start resenting him for reading him so well because then, he wouldn’t have to think about anything that was happening between them.
But the expression Erwin gave him was nothing close to frustration. It was tender, painfully so. Levi wasn’t used to it. But the serenity returned, this time not hidden behind the mask of the cold Commander but someone else, someone private and caring.
Erwin looked down first, studying their hands. He did not let go, but his lips curved upwards just a little bit. It was still enough for Levi to notice.
“You’re asking a great deal of me, Levi,” he claimed softly, and Levi wondered what to do with the knot tightening in his stomach.
“Forget it,” Levi muttered, but it lacked force. He wished he was angry enough to use it to pull away and leave, but he stayed frozen in place instead. Erwin’s fingers were warm around his skin.
“No.” The hand tightened around his wrist, but not enough to hurt. It was more of an anchor than anything else. A reassurance that he was not going to bolt because, apparently, he ran every time emotions got too heavy. “No, you’re right. I do all these things. And you deserve more than that. You deserve honesty. Perhaps you’ve deserved it for a while.”
Levi looked away but still did not move his hand. Erwin’s thumb ran across the inside of his wrist, calm and gentle. Too gentle for all the feelings that Levi threw at him, perhaps.
“Doesn’t matter.” His free hand curled into a fist because it gave him something to focus on other than Erwin’s gaze upon himself. “You don’t owe me shit.”
“I owe you a lot.” It was only a whisper, but it stopped Levi short. He loosened his fist and let the other hand rest calmly in Erwin’s hold. “Look at me.”
Levi’s jaw tightened. He stared at the floor stubbornly through the burn of his eyes. His hair fell over his face, shielding him from the worst of Erwin’s stare. His throat closed, but he didn’t let it show.
“Levi.”
The name sounded so soft coming from Erwin’s mouth. It was unusual, too. He had never heard it being spoken like this, especially not from someone like Erwin Smith. He tried telling himself it was nothing, though, because nothing was better than whatever brewed between them just a moment ago.
He lifted his chin with hesitation, but his eyes found Erwin’s instantly. There was still no anger in them. Instead, he smiled faintly, and Levi didn’t know what to do with it, either.
“You asked me if I thought myself selfish. The answer’s yes. Yes, I am selfish. As both your Commander and the man standing before you.”
Levi blinked because if he didn’t, something would show on his face, and nobody wanted that.
“I told you I don’t give a shit about my Commander right now,” he croaked, voice filled with too many things he couldn’t say out loud. “I wasn’t asking him.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” The hand let go, and Levi immediately felt its absence. He disliked that he did.
He abruptly looked down at his wrist, but it was only a second before fingers reached out to his chin and touched it lightly. They were hesitant. Levi froze but didn’t pull away. His gaze flicked back to Erwin’s. The bastard was smiling, faintly but still visibly. His face features softened considerably, too. He didn’t like what it did to him.
“So are you?” he asked quietly, trying not to lean into the touch because he had his dignity and he would not lose it. “Are you selfish, Erwin?”
His smile widened a fraction, though not for too long. A thumb brushed Levi’s cheek. The touch was featherlike, and he closed his eyes for just a second to let himself feel it. When he opened them, Erwin was still watching his face, calm and softer than Levi had ever seen him. He didn’t know what to do so he just froze. He didn’t know a touch could be so tender and careful. As if Erwin himself was afraid of crossing the line they both had already stepped on.
“Yes,” Erwin whispered, nodding once. “I believe I am.”
Levi swallowed something unpleasant in his throat, clenched his fist only once before loosening it. He blinked against the sudden dampness in his eyes because, apparently, Humanity’s Strongest couldn’t take a man looking at him like that. But he had wanted it for too long, and he hated that he couldn’t deny it anymore. He hated that he let himself relax, too, allowing Erwin’s thumb to circle over his skin one more time.
The hand was warm against his cheek, warmer than the air outside. Erwin’s face was close, close enough for Levi to have to tilt his head. His fist curled around Erwin’s white shirt again, this time with no force behind it and no desire to let go. His fingers squeezed the soft fabric, and Levi opened his mouth to say something but eventually decided against it. There were too many words gathering in his head, and none seemed fitting.
Of course, he could say that Erwin watching him with this look woke something inside him; something so unbearable and sharp that it made breathing difficult. He could say he had waited for Erwin to touch him in this way and assure him it was not just in Levi’s head, that he hadn’t imagined the looks showing feelings too big for them to understand fully. He could also say that Erwin should leave him alone because something in Levi felt too exposed under that gaze and it probably was inappropriate (not that Levi cared much for propriety, but it mattered to Erwin, and he wasn’t going to question that).
He said none of these things, and maybe he didn’t even want to say them in the first place. For once, Levi wanted to be selfish, too.
“Well, then,” he cleared his throat, annoyed by the way his voice let doubt sink in there. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
Kiss me, he wanted to shout. Kiss me and make me forget the world.
Erwin seemed to understand it despite the silence. His hand pressed a bit harder against Levi’s cheek, though it was still gentle enough. His eyes were shining, candlelight spreading across one side of Erwin’s face, moonlight on the other. Levi parted his lips, but no sound came out. He kept staring like a fool that let himself hope too much.
Then Erwin smiled. A soft and rather short-lived smile, but genuine enough for the night to seem a bit brighter.
“You can never say it plainly, can you?” he asked and didn’t really wait for Levi’s reply before leaning down, his lips touching Levi’s.
It was hesitant at first, cautious. Like he wasn’t sure if they should, if this one purely selfish act wasn’t too much for a man that hid behind the mask of the Commander.
Levi closed his eyes, fingers curling around the shirt more tightly. He let Erwin kiss him. It wasn’t really a hard kiss. It was barely a brush of their lips against each other, but it felt more passionate than anything they’d ever let pass between them. The noises in Levi’s head silenced just for a moment, and the heavy guilt filling Erwin’s eyes faded for this one second when their hearts finally connected in the way that was unsuitable for military men in the aftermath of bloodshed.
Even after the kiss, Erwin didn’t pull away, and neither did Levi. Their noses nearly touched, and Levi stared into the gentle eyes, feeling Erwin’s warm breath against his own face. He swallowed again, opened his mouth, closed it, and turned away as the first one but not enough to put distance between them. Erwin remained silent, watching him as if the realisation what they’d done hit him just now. He didn’t step away, either.
“Tch,” Levi finally scoffed, letting go of Erwin’s shirt and pulling away slightly. The absence of Erwin’s breath on his skin bothered him instantly. “You’re a shitty kisser.”
The breath that left Erwin’s mouth may have been a laugh, and Levi hated the way heat spread over his insides and appeared on his face, making him blush like a stupid schoolgirl with a crush. He tried his best to focus on the pain in his ankle instead.
“Ah,” Erwin began, real amusement entering his voice for the first time tonight. “Right. My apologies, Levi. I should’ve started working on my technique long ago.”
“Whatever.” He turned to the side, finally putting some distance between them. Cold air hit him immediately. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the desk instead. Papers were scattered all over it, and the cup of untouched tea sat too close to the reports. An ink stain contrasted with the white piece of paper. “Your office’s filthy.”
“Is that an official assessment?” He could still hear amusement in Erwin’s voice, and it didn’t irritate him nearly enough.
“It’s a damn observation. You live like this?”
“I work like this.” Erwin finally moved from the window, stood behind Levi, and Levi tried his hardest not to look over his shoulder. He clicked his tongue instead. Erwin smiled, he could tell without looking. “Well, I suppose I need to do something about it now, though. I can’t have my best soldier complain about such grave matters.”
Levi did not answer that. He simply sat back down, turning away from the paperwork and focusing back on Erwin, who now stood next to his chair. There was something more tender and unguarded on his face now, and Levi refused to comment because pointing it out would make it disappear. He simply chose to watch, quiet and still feeling the sensation of Erwin’s lips against his own.
After a moment of them studying each other in the quiet, Erwin turned his face away as if he reminded himself of the circumstances and sat back down. His focus was no longer on the papers. Levi remained in the chair opposite, candles burning low now, and the silence that filled the room was no longer tense. There were still reports to finish, documents to read, things to sign, but the night seemed to have stopped.
Erwin hadn’t touched the pen for the rest of the night.